


Got Your Back

by RayneSummer



Category: Uncharted
Genre: France - Freeform, chateau, post-u3 Chateau chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 08:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6415810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayneSummer/pseuds/RayneSummer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping the burned-down Chateau in France, Nate tries to patch himself up alone, not giving himself time to be looked after or talk about what happened. Fortunately, Sully is having none of it. He still has Nate's back, but he needs the kid to stay with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Got Your Back

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-Chapter 6 Chateau in Uncharted 3: Drake's Deception

Nate sighed as he sat down on his bed and started pulling his left sleeve up to check the bullet graze. Sully had gone down to the hotel reception to search for information on the next flight to Syria, since they only had internet connection down there in this little run-down place. At least it was low-profile. Last thing they needed was Talbot's men finding them, alive.

He grimaced as he had to tug the fabric away from where the blood had stuck it to the wound, and as soon as the sleeve was out of the way, it started bleeding. A lot, annoyingly.

"Shit," Nate muttered, hastily grabbing a handful of tissues from the convenient box on the bedside table. He pressed them to the cut, feeling the blood soaking into them instead of flowing down his arm. He didn't really want to get blood on everything - they'd be questions, mainly from Sully, and Nate didn't have time for that.

He held the wad of tissue there with his right hand as he got up and crossed the room to kneel by the backpack he'd shoved some supplies in back home. After a moment rummaging around with one hand and cursing under his breath, he located an unused bandange that probably had been there for some time, but it wasn't too dirty and it would do.

Somewhat awkwardly, he twisted around and with the help of a small mirror on the wall, managed to wrap the dressing haphazardly around his upper arm over the wound, tucking the end in. He sighed at his reflection before taking his shirt off and stuffing it in his bag, switching it for a loose t-shirt he could sleep in - Sully had said that they'd take off first thing in the morning, not tonight, despite Nate's need to keep going. He'd agreed distractedly; Sully needed the rest, anyway.

Admittedly, Nate wasn't planning to sleep, but that wasn't the point. He made his way back over to the bed and dropped onto it tiredly, moving to lean on his right side. But as his arm touched the covers, pain flared on his elbow and he immediately sat back up, hissing in reaction, twisting his arm around to see what was wrong.

The skin was burned red and raw, with what looked like blisters beginning to form. He'd been distracted enough since the chateau to pretty much forget he was probably burnt - they had escaped a building on fire - but now all the adrenalin had left him, the injury had made itself known, proving very painful.

"Ow, shit, that hurts," Nate cursed to himself, wincing as he briefly touched it to check; the skin was hot and apparently damaged more than superficially. Trying to keep his arm still to minimise pain, and ignoring the throbbing shoulder of the other arm, he got up again and headed to the small bathroom for something to cool it.

As he stepped on the tiled floor, he heard the hotel room door open somewhere behind him and reacted instantly, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him. 'Oh, good job, Nate,' he told himself savagely, 'way to convince Sully nothing's wrong.'

"Nate?" Sully called questioningly. Nate sighed as he started running the cold tap over a hotel flannel that was helpfully sitting on the side.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a minute," he called back vaguely. After a second of thoughtful silence, he heard Sully walk across the room to the beds, taking his word for now. Nate let out a breath and carefully put the soaked flannel on his burnt elbow. He gritted his teeth against the pain that immediately screamed from the contact, and leaned on the sink with his free hand for support, head bowed and breathing heavily in an attempt not scream as the burning sensation deepened.

Blackness crept into his vision, telling him that if it didn't start calming down soon, he'd likely pass out from the pain. And that wouldn't help at all, not to mention attracting attention. Nate took a slow, shaky breath, waiting for the wound to lessen.

Thankfully, the pain slowly began to fade and he swallowed, left feeling sick and unsteady. Aftere a moment, he straightened up and dropped the now-warm flannel in the sink, letting out another careful breath as he glanced in the mirror above the sink. Only to be met with the sight of Sully, reflected from the opposite wall where he stood in the small space, arms folded and looking very unimpressed.

"Christ, Sully, warn a guy!" Nate snapped when he spun round to face him. The movement pulled at his wounded shoulder and he winced, automatically reaching his right hand to cover the wound in pain before he could think.

Sully was silent for a moment, staring at Nate, then just sighed. His expression softening into weariness and concern as he uncrossed his arms and reached out to take Nate's uninjured shoulder. "C'mon kid. Let me take a look," he said quietly, gesturing at the bedroom.

Nate tensed up for a second before letting himself slump in somewhat defeat, tiredness and pain weighing on him, and simply let Sully guide him to the beds. He sat on the edge of his bed as Sully briefly left his side to get a first aid kit out of his own bag. Of course he was prepared. He turned back and took a seat next to Nate to treat his left shoulder.

Carefully, Sully pushed up the short sleeve and started unrolling the bandage Nate'd tied there thoughtlessly to stop the bleeding, by now it was covered in blood itself and Sully had to pull it away from where it had been sucked into the wound. He murmurmed apologies as Nate cringed in pain, and swapped the bloodied dressing for an antiseptic wipe from the kit.

"Doesn't look too deep," Sully commented with some relief as he wiped away blood welling in the cut, checking it for signs of bright redness or infection. He pressed the cloth onto the wound for a minute and glanced at Nate's face tensed with pain, wincing in sympathy. "Still hurts like a bitch though, huh."

The kid just nodded and swallowed a gasp of pain from the alcohol solution stinging like hell. Sure, he'd had much, much, worse - this was only a graze for god's sake - but shit, did it hurt right now. "Well, there's been worse," he countered his reactions.

"Yeah, we have," Sully replied somewhat firmly, leaving it at that. He reached for a gauze pad and a clean bandage, switching the wipe for the pad and pressing it on the wound, before expertly securing it in place with the bandage, wrapping it around Nate's shoulder. "There," he said with a sigh, leaning back a little and watching Nate with hidden pity in his gaze.

Nate glanced at his treated shoulder, then at Sully. "Thanks," he replied, voice low. He twitched a smile to show he meant it, before lowering his gaze back to the floor. Sully just nodded, briefly smiling back.

He sighed again after a second and got up, stepping to his bed to find the bottle of painkillers from his bag. Taking it out, he carried on to the bathroom to fill a glass there with some water, before going back to Nate and offering him both items.

"Take them," Sully put in sternly when Nate hesitated. The kid grimaced a bit but nodded, taking the pills and glass from Sully with a nod of thanks and swallowing two of the tablets with water.

Sully stood over him as he did so, giving him a once over for any other injuries as Nate put the half-empty glass and pill bottle on the nightstand next to the tissue box. "You hurt anywhere else?" Sully asked when Nate looked up, raising an eyebrow to warn the kid against denying it.

He sighed. "My sleeve caught fire a bit and burnt my elbow," he admitted tiredly, gesturing vaguely to his right arm. Sully glanced and noted the blistering raw skin, hissing in reaction at the pain it must be causing. It looked pretty bad actually, probably a second degree burn, but at least it was only a small area.

"Well, at least you started cooling it down," he commented as he went to fetch the flannel he'd seen Nate using from the bathroom. He soaked it in cold water and folded it before returning to Nate, crouching down in front of him and carefully placing it on the burn, muttering assurances as he cringed in pain.

Sully didn't think about the fire or the conversation afterwards as he looked after Nate, making sure he would be alright. Bottom line was, this is the kid he's raised for decades and they are family; Sully would always patch him up and keep him safe, no matter how much growing up he has done. Nate would always be his kid, arguments and recklessness be damned.

\---

Later that night, after Nate had fallen asleep on his front through painkillers and exhaustion, Sully found himself being the one who couldn't rest, instead slowly pacing the room, thinking. He paused by Nate's bed and briefly ran his hand up and down the kid's back; a gesture of comfort occasionally used in close moments.

Sully sighed, looking down at Nate as he frowned in his sleep and shifted, pressing his face into the pillow futily against nightmares. "This is getting out of hand, kid, and you know it," Sully whispered into the silent room and shook his head as he ran his hand gently down Nate's back again. "But I meant what I said; I've still got your back. I'm with you... but only if you stay with me."

With another sigh, Sully stepped back, turning to his own bed. If he wanted to keep Nate alive, he had to be alert. Who knew what troubles Syria with the others would bring.

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write this for a while; they can't just cut from the French jungle to Syria the next night! In relation, I also may well write a chapter for after-Syria, either as a second chapter here or another short story.


End file.
